


Cave Diving

by jazzypizzaz



Series: can't buy me love [6]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Sex, Bickering, Caves, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Platonic Sex, Post-coital sobbing, Romantic Gestures, Space Polyamory, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quark is anxious over difficulties in his relationship with Odo, but he figures out what's missing while helping with Ezri's own frustrations.  (Can be read separately from the series.  Smut is in ch 3 if you want to skip it or skip to it.)</p><p>Much thanks to brinnanza for beta-reading!  Your help made this fic immeasurably better and is much appreciated.</p><p>Quark sits there, his lobes tingling in response to Ezri’s rising volume and cutting rebukes, and an incredible, wonderful, completely improbable idea occurs to him.<br/>Eyes wide with possibility, he says, “Have you ever had a moment of pure clarity?”<br/>“Is my life is doomed to be one long exercise in deja vu?”<br/>“You want to be in control,” Quark holds up a finger for each point, “you want to yell at me a bit, release some tension–”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Ahh, ow!”  Quark violently flails his arm into Odo’s face in a manner that would have broken the nose of most humanoids. Except of course,  Odo liquefies upon contact, the goo pushing Quark’s arm back out.  “Gross.”  Odo has been trying to give him oo-mox for a half hour now, but Quark’s ears are oversensitive from the rubbing, and nothing Odo’s tried has gotten him any closer to climax.

 

“What happened?  What else do you want?”  Odo face is pinched, and while his words are comforting, the tone is stilted and awkward, as if it’s something Odo is obligated to ask rather than, Quark suspects, because he actually wants to know the answer.  “Does that feel okay?”

 

“I don’t know.  Maybe try working from the inner rings out?”  Quark says, staring at the ceiling, anxiety squirming in the pit of his belly.  Odo’s attempts to goo-link with him hadn’t quite worked, and Quark suspects it’s his own fault.  The entire experience for Odo relies on Quark’s sensations, so the pressure is on Quark to figure out what he wants from this sex so that his physical pleasure can be Odo’s, but  _ he doesn’t know _ .  The same feedback loop that amplified their sexual friction into such an intensely erotic experience a couple weeks ago is now breaking down to do the opposite.  

 

The weirdness between them, and the pit of worry inside Quark, has been building for several days now.  Odo hadn’t stormed into the bar  _ once _ to slander Quark’s good name in his quest to uphold boring laws or to upend any of Quark’s (mostly legal) business deals, even though Quark had been worried Odo would connect the latest youth fad of noisemaker toys back to him.  

 

Instead, in the most recent visit, Odo had complimented one of his jackets: “That looks nice,” he had said in a terse voice, and then, even stranger, continued with “I’ll be back at 1900 hours to pick you up for dinner,” and stalked off before Quark had the chance to respond.  

 

This had thrown Quark off so much he spent the evening trying to figure out if Odo had been sarcastic -- always a good bet -- and if so what he had meant by it.  Rule number 76, about confusing your enemies, probably applied here, but Quark couldn’t figure out to what end.  The jacket wasn’t even new -- he had been wearing it for years around the bar.  Did it have a weird stain?  Was it getting too small for him, emphasizing his snack-inflated belly in a humiliating way?  He had been so distracted looking at his reflection in the shine of the glass behind the bar that he hadn’t even noticed the repeated cries of “dabo!” at wheel #4 until the visiting Bolians had won enough to negate his profits for the evening.  

 

In any case, Quark had changed jackets to follow Odo to Nebula for dinner, just in case.  (Odo had refused to buy Quark dinner at the bar -- “but it’ll be like a gift of profits  _ and  _ a meal!”) Odo insisted on paying -- not that Quark minded, but it did keep him on guard, waiting for Odo to spit out what he wanted from Quark.  Quark kept trying to draw Odo into conversation, needling him and annoying him, but Odo was intractable, and not in his usual sardonic way.  It had been almost like Odo was trying to be  _ nice  _ to Quark, refraining from what would have been a familiar litany of insults about the way Quark slurps his Plomeek soup or chases the tube grubs around the plate before popping them in his mouth.  Instead, Odo had sat there stoically watching Quark, occasionally glancing around as if he couldn’t turn off being a security guard or would rather be elsewhere.  Stilted, awkward, and  _ thoroughly unsettling _ .

 

Now, trying to enjoy a round of oo-mox in his quarters, Quark still hasn’t figured out what Odo’s game is, and it unnerves him.  “Ugh no no, or uh maybe tug on my ear hairs a little.” 

 

“Like this?” Odo drawls in a bored voice.

 

Without the tension from their usual traded barbs or cop-and-criminal games, the sex is just plain  _ boring _ .  Quark feels guilty and panicked that after pining over Odo for so long, if sex isn’t incredible, Odo probably won't want to bother with him any more. Quark will have ruined this for himself.

 

While Odo continues flicking at his ear hairs, Quark finds his attention wandering to Grilka, who would throw him across the room and treated sex like a battle.  The rituals involved in seducing her were convoluted, but the sex itself was straightforward-- he would never “win” the battle, but Grilka was generous in sharing her victory.  Slipping further back in time, Quark also finds himself missing Natima, who would always know exactly what she wanted but got off on giving him unclear instructions to see if he could figure it out.  She kept him on his toes, and the “punishments” for guessing wrong were just as exhilarating as the rewards for getting it right.  

 

“You’d think with all the groping you’d be able to shift a decent pair of lobes of your own.”  Quark makes idle conversation in lieu of trying to continue getting into the oo-mox.  He reaches out to grab Odo’s ear, but before he touches it, the ear squelches into the side of Odo’s head, disappearing.  Quark recoils and stares in horror at Odo’s now smooth, earless face.  

 

“Hey!  That’s  _ unseemly _ .”  Quark pauses, then shouts, “I SAID YOU’RE UNSEEMLY; CHANGE IT BACK.”

 

“Why are you shouting?  I can hear you perfectly.”  Odo tilts his earless head in fake confusion, then shifts so that  [ giant pointed ears ](http://ds9shameblog.tumblr.com/post/131721183979/and-the-award-for-fragilest-masculinity-in-the) like a Boslican hound blossom on the sides of his head.

 

Quark scowls and shifts, uncomfortable now.  “Nice to see you  _ are _ capable of shifting a proper set of lobes.”

 

“Jealous that mine are bigger than yours?  Does that make you feel inadequate?”  Odo’s ears continue to grow.  He chortles loudly in Quark’s scowling face, then sucks the ears back in so that they are his regular small smooth ones.

 

“Whatever, my lobes are sore.  You clearly haven’t been studying the literature I gave you.”  Quark contorts his face, trying to blame this all on Odo, but he feels like it’s really his fault for being disappointing.

 

“Studying??  That… _ filth _ you gave me doesn’t deserve to be called books, let alone  _ literature _ .”

 

“Unlike the boring Bajoran erotica you usually read, you mean?”

 

“Half of the dirty talk was the two characters reciting their bank statements and the stock market at each other, and the other half was naked fe-males obeying their males without question.”

 

“What’s wrong with a little business talk to get a guy in the mood?”

 

“So you’re not in the mood?  I just wasted an hour of my time, and you weren’t even in the mood?”

 

“I’m  _ always _ in the mood; my lobes tingle at the slightest breeze.”  Quark waves his hands in circles near his ears, miming delicately.  “Really  _ you’ve  _ wasted time that I could have spent tracking the exchange rates for Acamarian slime molds on Ferenginar.  I got a hunch on possible cosmetic properties, so the market might shift soon, and--”

 

“And you want to position yourself as the king of slime.  Sounds like a much more valuable use of time,” Odo says sarcastically.  “Well I won’t be intruding on your slime dealing for the next two weeks, because in about ten minutes Kira, Worf, and I are off to the DMZ for further investigation on smuggling.”

 

With Odo’s insults and the banter back to its usual antagonistic rhythm, Quark’s lobes have rushed with blood flow, so it’s just his luck that Odo is leaving.  “What am I supposed to do, rub my own ears?”

 

“It’s none of my concern.  Do whatever you did before I came along to ‘waste your time.’”

 

“So you don’t mind if I go back to scoring with any fe-male who looks my direction?  They’re very attracted to me. It’s been hard keeping them away, but I’ve done it, for your sake.”  Quark affects a sweet-oozing glib tone, batting his eyes at Odo.

 

Odo scoffs.  “I sincerely doubt that, but I really don’t mind who you occupy yourself with while I’m away.  When I get back, however, I’m not wasting my time with you changing your mind about whether you want hard or soft strokes every five seconds, and then blaming it on me.  Either you want to have sex with me or not. Decide.”

 

“I’ll be perfectly satisfied while you’re away.  I don’t need you at all,” Quark half shouts, waving his arms dramatically.  He pauses, then drops his irritation for a more hopeful demeanor.  “But if you could try the Eustachian tube rub for just a couple minutes more before leaving?”

 

Odo’s face twitches, then with a harrumph he turns towards the door.

 

“Wait!”  Quark says, panicked.  “We’ll try again when you get back, right?”  His voice trembles slightly, so to recover he adds, “Until you stop screwing it up?”

 

Odo quirks an eyebrow, then oozes his head down to kiss Quark on the forehead.  “Count on it.”  He squelches back upright, then leaves out the door without another word.  

 

Despite some small reassurance that Odo isn’t completely giving up on him, Quark is still left scowling, ears burning. Because  _ of course _ the first time their interaction feels normal in days, Odo has to leave immediately.  He tries to rub it out himself, but can’t quite get there. The pit of his belly is squirming with maggots over not being enough for Odo, and he’s left unsatisfied and alone, nerves twitching with discomfort over the lack of relief.


	2. Chapter 2

“Evade,” Ezri says to Quark.  They’re on the couch in Ezri’s quarters several days after their respective romantic partners have left on the away mission, unwinding.  She’s dressed in a long sleep shirt sitting with her feet curled under her and frowning, but not at her tongo cards.

Quark takes a skeptical glance at the tongo wheel sitting between them on Ezri’s coffee table, then looks back at his cards.  “Are you sure?  That doesn’t seem like the wisest move.”  

 

“And I’m supposed to assume you have my best interests in mind here?  Evade.”  Ezri spins the wheel, brow furrowed in thought. 

 

“Alright, acquire.”  Quark scoops up several cards, arranging them in his hand.

 

“Evade, evade,  _ evade _ .  All I can do is  _ evade _ .”  She throws her cards down in a huff.

 

“...In that case, confront.  Full consortium!  Read ‘em and weep.”  Quark lays out his hand victoriously, bouncing in his seat with a happy wiggle.

 

Ezri wrinkles her nose, surprised, although if she’d been paying attention she could have swept the table.  “Ugh, fine.  I’m going to have to borrow the last few strips from Worf though, and you know how he hates that.”

 

“Not my problem.  Another round?”  Quark grins at her eagerly.

 

“You’ve cleaned me out, Quark!”  Ezri huffs and leans back on the couch.  “I really shouldn’t have played tonight to begin with; I thought it would distract me, but now I have to add ‘broke’ to my list of troubles.”

 

“Not my fault, though I have to admit I’m not exactly broken up about it.”  Quark turns over a few of Ezri’s vanquished strips in his hands, admiring the way the light reflects off the gold.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my troubles are?”

 

“I thought you didn't want to think about it.” Quark looks up from his new bounty of latinum andscoots on the couch until he’s sitting flush with Ezri.. He strokes her hand, eyes leering.  “I know several ways I can distract you.”

 

“ _ Quark _ ,” she says reprovingly but wraps her hand around his to hold it. “Could you just be my friend?”

 

Quark scowls, taking his hand back and crossing his arms, grumpy.  “I’m always your friend, which is why I'm trying to help.  You don’t exactly have a problem talking about your issues, so if you want to air grievances you don’t need me to pry it out of you.”

 

“Fine, fine,” she says, then looks at him appraisingly.  “You’re more insightful than you should be for someone who should never ever be a counselor.”

 

“A bartender isn’t that different.  My customers depend on me for my listening skills, even if sometimes they’d be better off keeping their problems to themselves.  You wouldn’t believe the drama Morn goes through on a regular basis -- how that old lump manages to get tied up with so many lovers is beyond me. It’s my job to find a way to take people’s minds off their troubles, figure out what ails them, and give a solution.  For a price, of course.”

 

“But the solution is always alcohol or a racy holosuite program, isn’t it?  That’s not what I need.”

 

“Not true!” Quark says indignantly. “Sometimes it’s the pure adrenaline that comes from gambling away their latinum.  Like tonight.”

 

Ezri gives a deep sigh.  “Any chance I could convince you to pretend the last three rounds didn’t happen?  I don’t need another point of contention with my mother right now.”

 

“Once you have their money, never give it back,” Quark recites cheerfully, scooping up the strips into a pouch before Ezri slips them away.  “What does your mother have to do with tongo?”

 

Ezri contorts her face with a pained look.  “Nothing… nevermind.”

 

“If I ask about people’s problems, you say I’m being nosy and exploitative.  If I don’t, then suddenly it’s my fault for not reading your mind.  Pick one, Ezri.”

 

This is apparently all Ezri needs to open the floodgates.  “My mother keeps sending me holo-messages. Every day there’s a new one complaining about how the company is doing.  Yadda yadda -- there’s no one she trusts to do anything right, all the press from the murder of Monica Bilby is affecting the business….”  She waves her hands rapidly while talking, and Quark is briefly distracted by how her top stretches across her chest, but he recovers enough to respond.

 

“Your mother sounds like a smart lady.”  Quark will never understand why someone with a big mining magnate like Ms. Tigan for a mother would join  _ Starfleet _ when they could be raking in the latinum.

 

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to. Of course you’d prioritize profits over some basic regard for other people.”  Ezri leans back on the couch, unfolding her legs and stretching them out, the t-shirt slipping to reveal several inches of milky thigh.

 

“I… prefer to do both at once, as a community business leader,” Quark says, salivating a little. His pulse speeds up a bit as he sneaks discreet glances at Ezri’s shapely legs.

 

“A woman on our payroll was  _ murdered _ by my own  _ brother _ !  Our family is destroyed -- Janel refuses to talk to me, my dad is still off doing his own thing, ignoring the rest of us exist. Which honestly is what I’d  _ love _ to do, but my mom is passive aggressively trying to guilt me into coming back home. But I  _ left, _ and I left because I can’t deal with being under her thumb all the time -- especially not now that I’m Ezri  _ Dax, _ not Ezri Tigan -- and she knows that, but she’s relentless. That’s what makes her such an impressive businesswoman to be honest, and I can’t just ignore her messages--”  

 

Ezri is in full emotional tirade mode, her cute face scrunching up as she rants, and Quark is doing his best to listen, but his pocket is heavy with latinum and he’s uncomfortably aware that he hasn’t come in over a week.  Ezri’s wearing enough clothing to be scandalous by Ferengi standards, but it’s much less than her usual Starfleet jumpsuit.  He appreciates the view, his ears tingling hopefully, while nodding along.

 

“Well what  _ do _ you want from her?  If she’s the shrewd business magnate you say she is, I’m sure you could work out some sort of deal.  A way that you both get what you want.”

 

“What I want from her is to leave me alone, and what she wants is to bug me.  What I want is to be in control of my own life -- for once! -- and what she wants is to pull all the strings from the sidelines.  That’s not compatible.”  She puckers her lips in a pout, like two juicy grubs awaiting a kiss, and Quark grasps for what the right thing to say would be that would elicit a smile.

 

“A compromise then: You contact her on your own once a week for, say, an hour.  She gets to contact you one other time during the week at her discretion.”

 

“I suppose… though I doubt she’ll agree.  This is where you tell me business negotiation is all about interpersonal communication, isn’t it?  To be honest I really just needed someone to say everything out loud to. I didn’t expect you to give me advice I didn’t immediately hate.”  Ezri smiles at last, and Quark grins back dopily.  

 

Their friendship has only strengthened since he’d gotten together with Odo and stopped overtly pursuing her, but that doesn’t mean a compliment from the ever-lovely Dax will ever not make his heart flutter disobediently.  

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.  If this has been bothering you for a while… why didn’t you talk to Kira about it?”

 

Ezri shrugs, worn out.  “She… both her parents are dead.  I don’t want to dredge up old memories or seem ungrateful for what I have.  And from the little I do know, her relationship with them was fraught with bigger issues than the family business.”  She worries her lip, playing with the hem of the shirt along her bare, plush thigh.

 

“What could be more important than the family business?”  Distracting libido or not, Quark can still focus well enough to defend the importance of entrepreneurialism.

 

Ezri gives him a withering look.  “The Cardassian Occupation of Bajor, ever heard of that?”

 

“Oh, right.  Not good for profits.”

 

“Besides…” Ezri looks shy for a moment.  “I feel like I’ve done enough breaking down in front of her, and she’s been nothing but a stable, comforting influence, but… like I mentioned, I want to feel like I’m in control of my own life for once.  Either it’s my mom trying to micromanage my whole life, or it’s a past host’s personality flaring up at the worst possible moment, or it’s Kira--”  Ezri cuts off abruptly.

 

Quark’s eyes shoot back up to her face from where they had wandered to her breasts, unconsciously wondering what they would feel like beneath his hands.  “What about Kira?  She tries to control your life?  She can be a bit… overbearing, but that doesn’t sound like her.”

 

Ezri goes bright red.  “Not my life, just… in the bedroom… which I love! I do, I really do, and I wouldn’t want it the other way around with her, not often at least. But…I still remember sex with Worf, as Jadzia I mean -- it was weird that one time it was me -- and now that I’m Dax, I find myself craving a wider variety of experiences on a regular basis.  Anyway I just want to feel in complete control of something in my life for once, and it doesn’t help that I’m on edge from not having sex while Kira’s gone from the station.”

 

Quark’s heart pounds, his attention now completely undivided, as past fantasies flash through his mind.  “I have a full collection of holosuite programs that could suit your every whim, or… if you prefer the more personal touch….”  He scoots closer to her eagerly, putting his hand on her thigh, his face beaming with a hopeful smile.

 

Ezri rolls her eyes and punches him on the arm, hard enough he loses balance a little absorbing the impact.  “ _ Quark _ , really?  I needed someone to talk to, I make the mistake of choosing you, and you use the opportunity to hit on me!”

 

“If anything, you’re the one hitting on me,” Quark grouses, rubbing his now bruised arm.  “How are you so strong?”

 

“I know the skeevy flirting is like an unhealthy reflex for you-- a cultural reaction to finding sincerity toxic or something, but if you’re going to be my friend--”

 

Quark sits there, his lobes tingling in response to Ezri’s rising volume and cutting rebukes, and an incredible, wonderful, completely improbable idea occurs to him.  His mouth hangs open at the epiphany. 

 

“Quark!  Are you even paying attention?”  Ezri snaps her fingers in front of his glazed-over face.  “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

 

Quark snaps his eyes to focus back on her automatically, his voice a bit dazed.  “See?  That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

 

“Oh great, now I sound like my mother,” Ezri says, and then Quark’s words register.  “Wait, what?”

 

Eyes wide with possibility, he says, “Have you ever had a moment of pure clarity?” 

 

“Is my life is doomed to be one long exercise in deja vu?”

 

“You want to be in control,” Quark lists, holding up a finger for each point, “you want to yell at me a bit, release some tension…”

 

“I don’t understand; how is me chewing you out for being a horny self-serving pig with the emotional capacity of--” Ezri stops in the middle of her sentence.  Quark absent-mindedly reaches up to touch his lobes.  “Quark, did you hear a single thing I just--”

 

“Hear me out.” Quark spreads his hand out from his wrists out in plea as he continues his sales pitch.  “You want a change of pace from your dynamic with Kira, and honestly I could use the same--”

 

“I thought Odo gave the best oo-mox in the galaxy,”  Ezri says in a mocking tone.  Quark has probably told her too much about his sex life, but if it all pays off tonight, a little mocking might be worth it (or even desired).

 

“Is he bragging around the station?  I didn’t think those pursed lips would be the kind to kiss and tell. I’m almost proud,” Quark puts a hand over his heart.  “But anyway, yes he  _ did _ give great oo-mox, at first.  Lately however… something’s off.  He’s being  _ romantic _ , and it’s weird.”  He wiggles his hands dismissively.  “I don’t understand how sex with a Changeling could be  _ boring _ , but Odo has managed to do just that, and I haven’t come in a week -- not for lack of trying mind you.  This could be the solution.  Here I have a problem, you have a problem.  We can help each other.”  

 

Quark moves to put his hand back on Ezri’s thigh, but reconsiders and takes her hand instead, putting on his most sincere Honest Businessman smile. At her vaguely horrified face, he quickly adds, “As friends of course.  It can be a one time thing, and I won’t bring it up ever again.  Please.”

 

“Great pools of Ty’laya, I forgot you get off on people insulting you.  Fuck.”  Ezri twists her mouth as if she’s actually considering Quark’s proposal, then shakes her head.  “I don’t do dick.”

 

Quark points to his ear with his other hand.  “Not a problem!”

 

Ezri continues as if she didn’t hear him.  “I mean, it’s more complicated than that, especially since becoming Dax, but I’ve decided that I want to retain that part of Ezri Tegan.  There’s a limit to the joined Trill craving for variation, so Dax can wait until the next host.”  She pauses as Quark’s words sink in.  “What do you mean not a problem?  I thought you wanted to come. How-- Oh!  I didn’t mean to assume -- Most Trills are pretty fluid with gender, but I thought Ferengi genders stuck close to a strict biological binary.”

 

“Oh I’m male, by even the most conservative Ferengi standards; I mean, have you seen my lobes?  I… uuhh… heh.”  Quark scrunches his face, trying to figure out how to put this.  “Ferengi biology is much different from most humanoids.  It, uhh, well, there was a misguided time in Ferengi fashion when we were first encountering fe-males of other alien species when giant codpieces were on trend, but Ferengi have since capitalized on more enticing ways to seduce the fe-males of the galaxy--”

 

“So no Ferengi have dicks?  You… only have sex with your ears?  I don’t get it, how are there more of you?  I mean, how do you have children?”

 

“Sex for pleasure is oo-mox.  But to have children, first there’s a contract, and the male invests in a breeding suit, as expensive as he can afford to impress the fe-male.  One-time use, because that’s all it takes for conception.  Sometimes the cloth is woven with precious metals in the thread, for good fortune from the Blessed Exchequer.  Then, well, it has a cut-out of course--”

 

“I don’t know why I even asked.  As ever, Ferengi cultural practices remain baffling, but I meant biologically--”

 

“And uh both male and fe-male Ferengi have, well,  _ yor-lap _ , which is layers of external foldy bits--” Quark gestures with one hand for each sex, then interlaces his fingers “--and they interlock together, so that when the male, uh, you know,  _ expels, _ it can be absorbed between the folds of the female.  The act in itself is nice, I’ve heard, but not as  _ sensual  _ as oo-mox, and not acceptable outside a contract--”

 

“Ooohkay.  Huh.”

 

Quark shrugs.  “That’s one reason you never see half-Ferengi children running around. Not just because it’s hard to find alien fe-males who are willing to stay home naked and raise them.”  

 

Quark smirks, then grasps both her hands in his.  “But back to the matter at hand, sweet lovely Ezri. I do have a variety of other, shall we say, sexual talents, and the Ferengi  _ are  _ the foremost experts on pleasure merchandise, so if you want a look at my collection of toys, you can take your pick for the evening...”  He grins at her salaciously.  

 

She looks unimpressed and still wary, but, as Quark is quick to pick up on, she also doesn’t reprimand him.  “And I assume this would be fine with Odo?  It’s not like I want to steal his sex buddy away from him -- or whatever you two are doing -- but I’m not doing this behind anyone’s back--”

 

Quark’s eyes widen, overjoyed.  “So you’re considering?” 

 

Ezri ignores him and continues.  “I know it took a lot of comforting from Kira for him to feel safe enough they would still be close before he’d consider approaching you… As far as Kira and me are concerned-- Trill tend to have higher sex drives than most offworlders, especially when joined, so we’ve agreed to an open relationship, which is pretty common.  She’ll be happy that I, well, that I have someone while she’s away, even if it’s you.”  Ezri snorts derisively.  “Anyway, you and Odo are one thing, but you and me? Kira’ll be utterly baffled I’m even considering, but I don’t know what Odo’s reaction would be.”

 

Quark twitches his nose, vaguely offended.  “Odo doesn’t have room to talk; he and Kira are probably humping away like Cardassian voles on the Defiant as we speak.”  Ezri furrows her brow, and Quark continues, “Nerys?  Delicate-lobed female Odo has been in love with since time immemorial?  Currently also dating you?  Does that ring a bell?”

 

“Kira and Odo don’t have sex, Quark,” she says, as if this should be obvious, and he jerks his head back, surprised.  “They tried, and it didn’t really work-- well for Odo at least-- and that’s a big reason why they decided to open up their relationship.  Don’t you and Odo  _ talk _ about anything?”

 

“Sure.” Quark panics a bit, wracking his brain, but all he comes up with are barbs and banter, security reports, and Odo’s recent awkward attempts at niceness.  There’s an ugliness in him that’s relieved he can be valuable to Odo in a way that Kira can’t, but he’s also disappointed that Odo never thought to tell him this. He shoots back defensively, “But why would we talk about Kira?  Or…. that cold-hearted changeling’s nonexistent  _ feelings _ .”  

 

“Wow.  Unbelievable... but I don’t know why I expected any different.  You two really must be on the same wave frequency of not talking about your emotions somehow for him to be able to link with you.”

 

“How do you know…?”

 

Ezri stares at him derisively.  “Unlike you and Odo, Kira and I do talk.  I’ve got my own gift for gab, and Jadzia’s gift for gossip.  Anyway, if we’re really considering... this--” she gestures between them “--then pay close attention.”

 

Quark perks up and nods frantically.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've made it, this is the chapter with the smut. Warning for light breath play and for Quark's emotional issues.

"Anyway, if we’re really considering... this--” she gestures between them “--then pay close attention.”

 

Quark perks up and nods frantically.

 

“You say one sleazy thing to me I don’t like, put one hand somewhere I haven’t told you explicitly to put it, and I will walk out of here without so much as a see you later.”  Ezri pauses.  “Or… a better threat than that.   _Got it_?”

 

“Yes, of course, sure, now first we should--” Quark sputters eagerly, lunging forward to take Ezri’s hand.

 

“Aah ah,” Ezri interrupts and pulls her hands away from Quark.  He reaches back out to grab her hand from where she’s pulled it away from him, and she waves her finger at him instead.  “You know what?  Don’t talk at all.”

 

“Not into dirty talk, eh?  Well I’ve memorized the entirety of the Phalonian Goddess of Rixx series, and there’s a few of my favorite lines should change your mind--”

 

“No.”  She leans forward over Quark and grips his chin so his sales pitch is cut off, tilting his head back so that he has to look up at her.  “Do you trust me?  I will take care of you, but it has to be on my terms.”  She stares down at him with blazing intensity, eyes unblinking like the glare of the sun off the blue Risian ocean, and the power play both disconcerts and exhilarates him.

 

“Sure, sure, of course, please--” He says, cowed, and tries to move his head to avert his eyes, but she retains control, her fingers digging into the soft underside of his jaw.  An electric thrill shoots through his body from his toes to his lobes, aroused at the wrongness of a fe-male holding such dominance over him.

 

“I wasn’t done.  While I make a living understanding people, I’m no Betazoid.  It is essential that you tell me to stop or slow down if you don’t like what I’m doing and that you know I’ll do the same.”

 

Quark perks up.  “Are we doing safe words?  In my program, the Vulcan Love Slaves use [ ak'sh'iz or ](http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/) [ an'kharh ](http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/main.php?cmd=details&id=17)\--”

 

“Please don’t talk about your porn with me.”  She considers.  “If you manage to spit that out, sure, but I’ll also respond to plain ole ‘stop’ or ‘hold on’.   _Otherwise_ \--” she lowers her voice and draws herself up so her tiny frame manages to loom over Quark, eyes still burning into his, and he instinctively gulps “--don’t say a word or move a muscle unless I say so.  I don’t want to have to worry about where to draw the line with you.”  Ezri yanks her hands back.

 

Quark makes a show of pulling his head away and massaging his jaw, but his ears tingle with anticipation.  He opens his mouth to argue, but then clamps it shut again before any sound comes out.  

 

“Good.”  Ezri looks relieved, her cheeks flushed.  There’s a knot in his stomach that loosens even as his lobes tingle in anticipation.

 

Ezri, more confident now, leans in with lips parted.  Quark flutters his eyes shut and keeps his mouth closed underneath her, trying and failing not to kiss back too eagerly.  Her Trill-specific scent -- briney and a little earthy -- floods his nose, and the combination of that with her solid, warm lips on his is such a strange contrast to kissing the scentless, liquid Odo.    He’s spent years imagining kissing both Dax and Odo, and now within the same month, they’ve both finally let him. He blinks back the tears welling up in his eyes as his heart overflows with gratitude in this moment.  

 

Ezri tries deepening the kiss, getting rougher, but Quark keeps his lips pursed.  He pulls back with a series of obnoxious grunting noises, waving his hands to get her attention.

 

“What?  What is it now?  You can’t be quiet for thirty seconds?”

 

Quark opens his mouth to speak but hesitates, his brow ridge raised expectantly.  

 

“Fine.  Talk.”

 

Quark pulls his lips back to show rows of uneven sharp teeth and gestures emphatically.

 

“I said you can talk.”  Ezri gives an exasperated sigh.  “I was married to Worf, Quark, and there was plenty of kissing involved.  More recently I mean, once I wasn’t married to him.  We had sex, which wow was amazing for stimulating the symbiont, that’s not something other joined Trill ever talk about.  Anyway, it was a rough time for us, we thought--” Quark feels faintly ill, and it must show on his face, because Ezri rolls her eyes.  “Right, well, I’m not a delicate flower.  I know my way around a few teeth.”

 

Quark smiles, leering, and they resume kissing heatedly.  After seven years of pining for Dax, her wet warm lips are on his, her taste on his tongue like a vintage eelwasser, but Quark still finds himself missing Odo’s strange shifting, tasteless mouth.  To shake himself from this thought, Quark grabs Ezri’s waist to pull her against him, but she clears her throat and he freezes automatically.

 

Ezri raises her eyebrows and smiles.  “Good boy.  You can keep your hands there.”  

 

She presses in close so that her chest is flush against Quark, and he can faintly hear the pulse of her pounding blood.  The sensation of soft warm flesh against him dispels thoughts of Odo.  He wants to bury his face in Ezri’s chest or at least his hands -- to feel her heartbeat, her softness giving away under his palm, the solidity. He reaches up but catches himself before he outright grabs her breast.  

 

She smiles under his lips and whispers in his ear, sultry voice tickling his ear hairs.  “No.” He whines, but she continues. “Not yet.  First, you really, really need a breath mint.”

 

She pulls away to grab a white orb the size of an armadillo beetle from a dish on the coffee table and shoves it into Quark’s open mouth before he can register what she’s doing, her fingers pressing it towards the back of his throat so he gags a little.

 

“Mmghhhph.”  He scowls at her, but chews on the biting freshness of the mint obediently.

 

“I don’t know what bug you ate for dinner, but your mouth was putting me off.  Reminds me of gagh,” she says with a shudder.  “C’mon, let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.”

 

She grabs Quark’s lapel and drags him off the couch.  Crossing the threshold from the open, bright living room into the enclosed darkness of Ezri’s bedroom, Quark is momentarily disoriented, as if they had transported from the station to a nearby planet.  The ceiling is low, gauzy sheets of fabric hanging across it, enclosing the room and enveloping them in softness.  The air is damp, clinging to Quark and pressing like a hug inward; the humidity comforts him, reminiscent of Ferenginar, and any lingering anxiety over whether he can be good enough for Dax now she’s finally acquiesced to his flirtations dissipates.  Low light glows from behind the fabric, reflecting off a thin sheen of moisture forming on Ezri’s pale moonlight skin as she watches his reaction.

 

“Where are we?”  Quark says in wonder.

 

“Heh,” Ezri says sheepishly.  “We can move back to the living room if you’d rather.  It’s supposed to help prevent disassociation-- which the unique circumstances of my joining have put me at higher risk for-- as a safe room to retreat to when my pieces feel out of sync.  Because it mimics the feel of caves where unjoined symbionts live, it helps the Trill-me feel at home with the symbiont-me, even though really Trill are trogloxenes at best-- that’s how we first met the symbionts, or so our biologists theorize--”

 

“Trogo-what?”  Quark says distracted, then refocuses away from the room to grins at her.  “Nevermind... I’m only interested in one aspect of your biology right now.”  He licks his lips salaciously, eyeing her up and down.

 

Ezri smirks.  “Well then let’s go spelunking.”  Bewildered, Quark opens his mouth with another vocab question, but Ezri snaps back into her role and grabs the front of his shirt, getting into his face.  “ _You_ aren’t supposed to be talking, and you definitely shouldn’t be saying lewd things like that.”

 

Ezri pulls Quark forward by the collar, yanking him a bit off-balance.Flashes of Odo holding him in this familiar position flit through his mind and blood rushes to his lobes. She shoves him backwards down onto the bed.  This knocks the wind out of him, and, gasping a bit, he cowers on his back with his wrists joined above him in submission as she climbs over top of him.

 

Kissing at his neck, hot breath racing his blood, her hands move to grasp the lapels of his jacket and take it off.  He jerks his head back away from her mouth, eyes wary.  

 

“Is that a no?  Tell me.”  

 

He tilts his head and nods slowly.  Ezri takes the hint and moves slowly, shimmying the jacket off his shoulders then doing his shirt one button at a time, watching his face.  Once she undoes the first several, he shakes his head.  

 

She moves instead to unclasp his pants, but he blinks rapidly and shakes his head more emphatically.  Ezri draws back in surprise.  “No?  Alright then, no.  Is this a ‘not right now’ thing, or a ‘never’ thing?”  He stares at her, nervous, then shakes his head slowly, exaggerated.  Ezri nods.  “You know what?  I’m not taking my pajamas off either.”

 

Any disappointment in this is forgotten as she shifts off her panties then climbs back over to kiss him, breasts grazing his chest.  He lifts his head up to reach her mouth, but she pulls away and pinches his lobes hard, pushing him back down.  

 

“Ow!” Quark whimpers, aroused, blinking at her with a scowl.

 

She shushes him by plunging down to kiss him with abandon, feeling him up hands everywhere but his lobes.  She carefully touches his crotch, watching his face as she explores, massaging the thicker folds of the _yor-lap_ between her fingers through the fabric. It’s pleasant, but he whines under his breath, wishing she would touch where it mattered, his poor lobes throbbing from lack of attention.  

 

Ezri notes his whining with a quirked eyebrow, straddles him, then says, “I want to try something, so I don’t have to look at you, but I’m not sure.”  Her eyes flick down to his pointed teeth.

 

“If you’re talking about what I think you are, then you should know it’s a specialty of mine.  And if you’re worried about teeth, does that mean that Worf never--?”

 

“Of course Worf went down on me, but--”

 

“So you trust his teeth more than you trust mine?” Quark affects a rakish grin and licks over his teeth, pink tongue flitting “To get the juiciest tree beetles, Ferengi have to have long, nimble tongues.  I may be a risk-taker -- a gambler, as you know -- but a fe-male has never left my bed unsatisfied.”  He pauses then laments, “Unfortunately it’s still not long enough to lick my own lobes.”

 

Ezri quirks an eyebrow, unimpressed.  “This is what I mean, I don’t want to have to look at your face, it’ll just turn me off.”

 

Quark frowns, indignant, then pleads.  “Really, what have I ever done to make you not trust me?  I have a long list of references if you need to be reassured, but we’d just be wasting time that we _could_ use--”

 

“Shut up,” Ezri says firmly, and he clamps his mouth closed mid-sentence.  She shimmies forward until she’s sitting on his chest, then pauses. “If you need to stop or pause for any reason, tap my leg twice.  Doesn’t mean it’s over if you just want a breather, but I’ll need you to communicate with me.”

 

“Can’t I just say to stop, like you said before?  Or my safe word?”  Quark looks up at her, perplexed and a little worried.  

 

“Tap twice.”  Ezri gives him a mischievous smirk, then crawls over him.  Quark moves to readjust and sit up, but she pushes him back down and hikes up her pajama shirt, kneeling above him.   Underneath the dark folds of the fabric and the curves of her thighs, Quark now has a direct view of what lies between.  Ezri shifts so that her feet pin down his shoulders and leans forward so she can prop herself against the wall with an arm.  He breathes in deep and drools a bit at how the smell overwhelms his senses, a heightened version of the Trill scent: salty, musky, and (although he knows better than to describe it this way outloud), rather swampy in a way that reminds him fondly of Ferenginar bogs.  

 

Scattered spots subtlely glow from beneath her skin like a nebula, radiating outward from the soft folds of her labia, beckoning Quark inward like fireflies.  He licks his own lips as she lowers herself, fleshy walls of the her body closing in on him, but before he can taste her alluvium she stops, vulva soft and inviting, slick with pearly liquid just out of reach.  A drop of her wetness slides off a fleshy stalactite to splash on his cheek and he swipes with his tongue to taste it with a whine.  Quark tries to lift his head, tongue extended for more, but her weight holds him in place.

 

“Ah, ah, enjoying the view?  Was there something else you want?”  Ezri says teasingly, trying to play at nonchalance but her voice is breathy.  “Hmm I’m having second thoughts, maybe this is all you get.”  Quark whimpers beneath her, desperate.  “We could stop right now, read a book on the couch instead… What?  What was that?  If there’s something else you want, tell me.”  She lowers her voice, commanding.  “Beg for it.”

 

She doesn’t have to tell Quark twice, and pleas spill out of his mouth before he can attempt any restraint.  “Please, please let me help you. I’ve wanted you for so long -- I can make you feel so good -- I promise I will I’ll be so good for you -- I’ll do whatever you want; use me however you want, just please please don’t stop now please--”

 

His pathetic supplication is cut off mid-sentence by her vulva caving in toward his face, wet pliant creases smothering his words. The abruptness overwhelms him momentarily, claustrophobic with her legs pinning him in place and her hanging shirt and body eclipsing his vision into darkness.  Quark can’t breathe at first, smothered by her wet folds on his face, but then she shifts back up, enough for him to take a sharp breath, his nostrils flooding with her scent and saltiness stinging at the corners of his eyes.  

 

Ezri grinds on him, slow enough for him to adjust to the rhythm, gasping as his tongue flits out to lap at her, and he explores the creases and crevices within.  Well-acquainted with discovering erogenous zones in alien lovers mid-sex act, Quark fancies himself a bit of an expert. A connoisseur of exotic genitalia.  He licks and licks, Ezri sliding across his mouth, until-- ah!-- he finds what he’s looking for, that tight bundle of nerves dense in an engorged crag of flesh.  She moans, voice undulating in waves.  For Human or Bajoran fe-males, the external part of this button rests towards the front of the vaginal chasm, but on Ezri, there are two thin ridges lining the opening itself. Quark focuses on stimulating them.  

 

“Hnng, aahhh, you weren’t lying that is fantastic. Good boy, keep going, keep doing that, just like you like it--”

 

Quark sucks and laps at her, and Ezri clenches her knees tight on his lobes as she rocks against his face.  He reaches his hands up from his sides to cling at her buttocks, not daring to control her movements, but rather hanging on for the ride.  The sensation of her legs rubbing along his ears is infuriating -- there’s just enough movement to stimulate his arousal further, but not enough for true relief.  Ferengi manufacture a sex toy for just this particular circumstance, and Quark laments not having a set with him tonight.  He groans into her, vibrations of his voice reverberating, and her hips jerk, quickening her pace.  

 

Ezri’s legs envelope over his ears, plush thighs pressing into Quark so that he can’t hear the ambient noise from the station outside them.  His heart thuds, primal terror at the loss of this vital sense welling up, dangerous in an erotic way.  Without external noise to distract, this serves to focus his attention inward until he can pick out the sound of the rush of blood pumping through Ezri’s veins, her heart thudding above, and -- the primitive section of his auditory-focused brain unconsciously cataloging all the sounds available-- a distant trilling noise that seems oddly familiar. The trilling echoes in a series of clicks at different pitches, like a morse code song at a high frequency most humanoids can’t distinguish but the uniquely evolved Ferengi ear can.  His mouth better occupied, Quark unconsciously responds from a vestigial organ for echolocation at the back of his throat, clicking in mimicry.  The trilling replies with what most closely can be called a purr, and Quark and the noise continue “communicating”, mimicking each other’s sounds and riffing off each other’s rhythms like echoes in a cave, bouncing back slightly distorted each time.

 

“What the fuck, holy fuck, what are you doing, fuck, don’t stop, keep doing that -- fuck--”

 

Throughout this, Ezri above him is gasping and panting, rutting against his face in sporadic movements.  Quark’s tongue and lips are still working at Ezri’s clits dutifully until Quark and the trilling noise harmonize, clicking together in a synchronized syncopation, building to a feverish pitch.  Their song tickles into his lobes, vibrating his ear drums, and this combined with the slight friction from Ezri’s legs, electrifies his nerves.  

 

He gasps out as orgasmripples through him with sweet relief, and with both the clicking-song and the vibrations of him moaning into her, Ezri arches her back in ecstasy.  Quark is briefly left without access to air while she rides out the orgasm ripping through her.  Quark holds onto her round ass, supporting her in place, his lungs burning and head a little dizzy as he counts in his head and tries to be what Ezri needs long enough for her to finish, hand ready to tap out.  

 

At last, with a final series of trills from within and moans from above, she gushes onto his face like a waterfall, thin briney liquid dripping, then collapses off of him, panting heavily.

 

“Great eternal mother of the worm within.  Holy shit.  Holy fucking shit.”

 

Ezri lies for a moment beside Quark, then with a sidelong glance at him, gets up and leaves the room.  

 

Quark remains, motionless, limp and spent and trying to figure out what just happened as blood redistributes back into his brain.  

 

The cool ambient air makes him uncomfortably aware of the come splattered on his face.  His clothes are rumpled, shirt now untucked, and with Ezri’s weight on top of him gone, he feels small and alone in her cavernous room.  The familiar sense of shame at having a clothed fe-male wreck him so beautifully crawls along his skin like a line of ants.  

 

Quark blinks at the salty come stinging at his eyes.  He wonders if her abandoning him in the room alone was his cue to leave for the night,  what it will be like seeing her tomorrow, if she’ll even reference their time together or if she’ll want to ignore it ever happened.  Odo at least, even with their current sexual difficulties, has finally made it a habit to stay with him afterwards, letting Quark cling to him.  Even though Odo was partially responsible for Quark getting himself in this situation, Quark finds his chest feel tight with longing for his strange goo lover.  Quark instead tries to focus on the latinum in his jacket pocket on the floor, but this doesn’t comfort him either. What if Ezri thinks relieving his libido was an excuse to not pay him back the rest?  Tears well up in his eyes, the prospect of going back to his bedroom alone daunting and unsatisfying, until he can’t restrain himself from sobbing noisily as he continues to lie still, willing himself to get up to leave.

 

“Hey-- hey!  What’s going on Quark?”  Ezri walks back in, bathroom towel and a glass of water in her hands, her face horrified.  “Shh, shhh, hey it’s okay.”

 

She drinks the water, sets it down, then wipes his face off gently with the towel.  Her face displays bewildered disgust at this pathetic display, but her voice is soothing and gentle.  Ezri slides down next to him on the bed, and he immediately clings onto her, burying his face into her collarbone, sobbing now muffled.  She envelopes her arms around him, rubbing him on the back.

 

“Deep breaths, c’mon.  Everything’s okay.  Shh, shh, talk to me Quark, what’s wrong?”

  


The combination of both the physical and verbal comfort is a balm on Quark’s rising misery, and he manages to slow his breathing enough to stop sobbing.  He nuzzles into Ezri, tension easing, his hands still grasping at the fabric of her shirt.

 

He mutters into her chest, “Did you want the latinum I won back?  It’s only fair I get to keep it-- I did beat you at tongo after all-- but at least as payback for the times you’ve cleaned me out.”

 

Ezri laughs and swats at his head playfully.  “Hey now, we talked about this.  Friendship and business remain separate, keep the latinum.”  Quark lifts his head to show a small grin, his eyes still watery.  “But no really, did I hurt you somehow?  I know we didn’t talk about what everything we were going to do beforehand, but you certainly seemed into it the whole time.”

 

Quark shakes his head, still smiling.  “I was clicking at something in you, and it was clicking back.  Either you should see Dr. Bashir about whatever that noisemaker is, or we should go into business to market a new sex toy for that.”  Although Quark’s lobes are spent from the experience, he does feel a small tingle at the latinum possible in pioneering a new sex act.

 

“Well, whatever the hell you did down there, you were talking directly to the symbiont, stimulating it-- I was worried, I admit, but whatever frequency you and I were on, that was a truly unique experience in my long long life, and I don’t get that often.”

 

Quark’s heart warms at the praise, and his grip on her shirt loosens.  “I _told_ you I’d be an excellent lover; the next time you find yourself craving my expertise, I’m at your disposal.”  Quark grins up at her, licking his tongue over his teeth in a leer.  She affects a familiar pained look at his sleazy antics, but the worry in her face eases.

 

“I’ll, ahh, keep that in mind, but no promises.  This was a nice change of pace, but I’m looking forward to Kira getting back from the mission, and I assume you miss our favorite shapeshifting constable.”  

 

Quark doesn’t refute this.  A small glimmer of worry remains for how to fix his situation with Odo, but right here, curled contentedly on Ezri, he doesn’t let it bother him too much.


	4. Chapter 4

Quark hops from one foot to the other, glancing anxiously at the entrance to his bar every couple of minutes.  Customers are gone for the day, and Quark is mostly done cleaning up, but Defiant is due back any time now.  Surely ensuring that Quark hasn’t wreaked too much havoc in his absence will be Odo’s first order of business.

 

Quark’s assumption is validated when, while he’s wiping down the last table, Odo walks through the door, stiff frame stalking straight for Quark.  

 

Quark beams up at Odo.  “As you can see, nothing to report here!  The boisterous Klingons that sat at this table--” Quark pokes demonstratively at the sticky surface he’s been working at with a rag for the past half hour “--were the last to call it night.  Profits are up and it appears any criminals around have saved whatever activities they have planned for after you came back.  Who knows why!  Maybe they enjoy a slight challenge, not that _I’ve_ heard anything of course--”

 

Odo mimics clearing his throat, interrupting Quark, and says in a stilted tone, “Would you care to join me in my quarters this evening for a bottle of wine? We could take a hot bath together, listen to your choice of music.”

 

" _What_ in the name of the Great Exchequer are you trying to do?"

 

Odo tilts his head, perplexed.  "You wanted to try... being 'intimate' again when I got back, so I thought we should catch up first--"

 

“You don’t bathe and you don’t drink wine and you hate the sound of Ferengi foghorns, which I know because you once cited me with a noise complaint even though it wasn’t any louder than when I play Klingon opera at the bar.”  Quark slams down his rag and folds his arms, scowling at Odo whose face flickers with brief distress.  “Enough of this nonsense.  I’m not Colonel Kira, you beige idiot; stop treating me like I’m your girlfriend.”

 

Odo stares at him for a long moment, then says, “You may not be my girlfriend, but we’re lov--” Odo twists his face as if this pains him to say, but continues on, voice soft.  “We’re in a relationship.  That’s how relationships with solids work, and I do.  Want this to work, I mean.”  His eyes are wide, and the creases in the “fabric” of Odo’s uniform smooth over for a moment, attention to shifted detail forgotten in Odo’s current disquietude.

 

Quark throws up his hands in exasperation.  “When will you ever learn that _you are not a solid_ , and any time you try to be one you screw it up, miserably.  Why do you even bother trying to understand humanoid relationships when you have no heart and never will?  You put Kira up on a shiny pedestal ensuring you’ll never be on the same level as her, and I assume _that’s_ why you two apparently don’t have sex.  Not that you ever thought that was relevant to tell me, your current lover.  And in your apparent superior knowledge about solids, you assume that for us to be together you have to butter me up by being weirdly _nice,_ and, frankly, I'm not suited to standing on pedestals; I'm afraid of heights.”

 

Odo’s face jerks in irritation.  “I can assure you I will never put you up on a pedestal.”  Quark notes that he doesn't correct him about Kira, however.

 

“Good, because I honestly don’t have it in me to reciprocate such ill-attempted affection to an anal arrogant fascist like yourself.”

 

The corner of Odo’s mouth twitches, threatening to smile.  “Well fine, because I got word of several disturbing reports about a trend in the quality of your drinks, and I have my suspicions that you’ve begun, ah, supplementing stronger-flavored cocktails with your extra kanar.  Only an profit-desperate idiot like yourself would even bother attempting to mask the particular odor of that Cardassian swill.  That’s in direct violation of advertising agreements-- what if someone was allergic?”

 

Quark’s face erupts into a broad grin.  “Might I remind you that this is all hearsay, and that you have no idea what kanar tastes like?  These so-called reports are probably from people just jealous of my business success-- outlandish accusations, all of them.”

 

“You, business success! Pah.”  Odo scoffs.  

 

They continue happily bickering all the way to the bedroom.


End file.
